


second sky

by chillifactory



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Creampie, M/M, Muscle Kink, Muscle Worship, Pre-endgame, Size Difference, Size Kink, blowjob, optional side quest, pre-iceborne, to bone hot grandpa, warning for rowdy dirty jungle sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24680572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillifactory/pseuds/chillifactory
Summary: In the Ancient Forest, the Hunter encounters a wild Admiral.
Relationships: The Admiral/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	second sky

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively - the Hunter bites off more than he can chew.

The Hunter tugs at the last of the hide clinging stubbornly to the carcass of the freshly slain Deviljho. The humidity is suffocating; the afternoon sun bearing down relentlessly over his head. The Hunter pushes away the hair clinging onto his face, skin sticky with sweat and wyvern ichor. Restless cawing fills the air - hungry calls of the Revoltures already circling overhead. 

Not long before the Jagras arrive to pick off the remains. 

He weighs the choices of between going back to Astera and staying. As exhausted as he is, it has been a while since he was in the Ancient Forest. Lately he’s been spending all his time in the dark caverns of the Elder’s Recess, busy gathering samples for the ever-curious Researchers. The lush greenery and hum of life was a welcome change to the boiling death pit that is the Elder’s Recess. He isn’t in a hurry to return to Astera either, where he knows he’ll be swamped with more requests. 

The Hunter sheathes his carving knife and retreats into the shade of the forest, out of sight of the sea. He does stink, he knows that much. The drying blood feels like it’s clinging onto every inch of his body, smeared across his face, clumping in his eyelashes and under his armor. 

It takes him about twenty minutes of trekking before he finds a small stream nestled in a clearing, hidden by enough foliage that he knows he won’t have to fight off any marauding wyvern while naked. The afternoon sun is dappled across the floor, gently diffused by the layered canopies above. 

Perfect. 

The Hunter sets his gear down in a neat pile. He’s about to start stripping himself of his armour when the grate of metal against stone whips him to attention.

Huh. He didn’t think that there were other hunters from the Commission out here, at this time, uncommon as it were. Crouching, the Hunter picks his way to the source of the sound downstream. 

Peering over the underbrush he spots a man squatting in the shallow waters. The familiar explosion of blond hair leaves little doubt to the identity of the other man. Under the mid-afternoon light, his hair is practically glowing. The Admiral has shucked off his top, his belongings stacked in a haphazard pile on top of a rock to keep them dry. The man is hunched over a carving knife, diligently sharpening it under running water. 

His back is the broadest he’s seen on any human being, muscles kneading together as he exerts himself over the task at hand. Sweat gleams off his wide shoulders, labouring tirelessly at the whetstone.

Transfixed, he can’t help but stare. 

“I’m not going to bite, Hunter.” 

The Hunter jolts upright. The initial sense of shock quickly turns into embarrassment. How long had he been staring? How long had the Admiral noticed him staring? 

“Sir.”

“You can join me, you know.” He doesn’t even look up from his chore. If he’s bothered by the use of honorifics, he doesn’t show it. He gestures absently at the cascades on the other side of the stream. “Water here’s good for a wash.”

“Uh. I. Okay,” the Hunter nods, suddenly feeling his ears burn so hot he might as well be afflicted with Fireblight. The Hunter has never been good with words, but being around this man is making him forget how to speak altogether. 

He moves his gear over and proceeds to strip his armor off, letting the running water scour the grime off while he scrubs the remaining ichor out of his skin, the water turning a pale pink as he works.

He’s never had an issue with getting undressed in front of strangers - all the hunters shared rooms and showers before they got their own quarters - but he feels strangely self-conscious this time. The Admiral gives no indication that he’s about to finish his chores any time soon, but still...

He peels the last of his undergarments off and washes them too. He quietly prays that his tan hides the blush creeping up his neck and across his face. 

When he’s clean, dried and dressed, the sunlight is dimming, and the Hunter finds himself surprisingly unwilling to leave. 

“Heading back?”

The Hunter shakes his head, and is met with a boisterous laugh. 

“Well, why don’t you join me for the night?”

The Hunter can’t find it in himself to say no. 

-

The camp is a simple one, and the Hunter finds himself sitting next to the Admiral. Night has fallen; dinner long cooked and devoured. The Hunter sips at the liquor the Admiral has produced - a gift from one of the researchers he met in the Rotten Vale, he explains, an alcohol distilled from the torpor sac of a Radobaan.

The campfire crackles softly, and the pair slip into easy conversation. The liquor lightens the atmosphere, and the Hunter finds himself growing warmer and more relaxed with every sip. The Admiral has launched into a vague, meandering story about some wyvern encounter he had had not too long ago, and the Hunter finds himself meeting his gaze. There’s something disarming about his eyes, bright and sincere, looking straight into his own, dancing in the light of the fire. 

The Hunter realizes that for the second time today, he’s unable to look away. 

He notes how the Admiral towers over him even while sitting, and his mind wanders. He can’t help but to think about the sight he stumbled upon this afternoon - the gleam of sweat on tanned skin, stretched over taut muscle. Those strong hands chipping away at the knife and whetstone, put to work somewhere else - 

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels a calloused hand brush over his knuckles, but the Hunter doesn’t move his hand away. Here, tipsy and warm, he finds the touch of another person oddly agreeable. 

It doesn’t take long before the Hunter decides to shift towards the Admiral, testing the boundaries of his personal space at first, then pressing flush into his side. The Admiral doesn’t move away. Rather, the Hunter finds that the hand that had been resting against his knuckle has now moved to trace circles on his lower back. 

A large hand traces his jaw, guiding him upwards. Later, when he recalls this moment, the Hunter will remember thinking, _Fuck, is this really happening?_ For now, he chases the taste of liquor into the older man’s mouth, feeling the prickle of stubble along his own jaw as the other man returns the kiss. The Hunter’s head is swimming. Everything is wet and warm, hazy from the alcohol. 

Eventually, they somehow stumble into the cover of the modest tent, kissing and pawing languidly at each other, reaching under clothes and armor to touch and stir. The Admiral lets out a low rumble as the Hunter tugs insistently at his top. 

The Admiral lets him pull it off clumsily while he divests the other man of his clothes, peeling bulky armor off him until the smaller man is sitting in his lap naked. The Hunter wastes no time exploring the broad expanse of his chest, hands roaming the defined pectorals. The Admiral leans back and watches, seemingly amused at the other man’s fascination. 

The Hunter traces the scars that trail his torso almost reverently. Now that they’re both naked, side to side, the difference is stark. Where the Hunter has lean muscle from exertion, the Admiral has heft, solid from whatever heavy lifting he does out in the field. His wandering hands find their way to his groin, stroking experimentally at the bulge in his pants. He sucks and kisses at dusky nipples, liking the way the Admiral’s clothed dick twitches in response. The way the larger man’s inhales sharply coaxes the Hunter on. 

Pushing the undergarments out of the way, the Hunter finds that his cock is every bit as large as the rest of him. He feels heat pooling in his stomach at the thought of that thing buried inside him. Before he takes too long to contemplate the idea, the Hunter feels fingers curled in his hair, nudging him gently downwards.

The Hunter obligingly opens his mouth to take his cock, kissing and sucking down the length of it. He jumps slightly in his skin when large hands trail down his back, stopping to squeeze roughly at his asscheeks, rough hands feeling the sensitive back of muscled thighs. He’s already getting hard from being touched. He can only gasp involuntarily when slicked fingers find their way inside him, scissoring him open lightly. In return, the Hunter pumps him slowly, lapping and mouthing until the length of it is slick with drool and precome.

Seemingly satisfied, the Admiral gently nudges the Hunter up and eases him onto his back. Lifts his legs effortlessly out of the way as he pins him onto the floor, folding him nearly into half. Held down like this, the Hunter feels dizzy with want. 

“You think you can take me?” 

A needless question. No way he’s going to back out now. The Hunter swallows deeply.

“P-please.”

The Admiral obliges.

The Hunter squirms to relax as he eases himself in - it’s pain and pleasure, a jolting sensation running up the spine and gripping his body. He claws fruitlessly at nothing, then at the Admiral’s wide back, gasping as his mind goes completely blank. He would have moaned, but he can only manage a strangled whimper as the Admiral pushes in fully. Grits his teeth at the splitting pain, trying not to think too much of the liquid warmth bubbling between his legs. He’s showered with gentle kisses, as if a way of apology for what happens next. 

The Admiral starts at a ruthless pace, and the Hunter can only hold on. He feels like he’s being split into half, his knuckles white from their grip on the Admiral’s biceps. For some moments, the Hunter’s world is a blistering singularity, the cacophony of the forest drowned out by the ragged breathing and the rhythmic bounce of flesh against flesh. Still, he crosses his legs over the Admiral’s hips when he can, letting him fuck into him brutally. 

The Hunter is the first to come, twitching weakly as the Admiral continues to thrust into him, using him to chase his own release. As the older man moves to grip his hips for better purchase, the Hunter can’t help but feel like a ragdoll under his huge hands, cock bouncing limply on his stomach. The Admiral comes in him before withdrawing, leaving a trail of semen to dribble out between his legs. When the Hunter shifts he can feel it ooze down, tickling the back of his thighs.

The Admiral slumps bonelessly back when he’s done, seemingly satisfied at the sight of the Hunter completely wrecked before him. The Hunter doesn’t bother to raise his head, but he’s sure his hips are bruised and he’ll soon feel the soreness from waist down. 

Before dawn breaks, they’ll get up to wash the mess off themselves in the nearby stream before parting ways. 

By noon next day he'll be back in Astera, taking on more assignments. When he meets her in the Canteen and the Handler asks about his limp, the Hunter will dismiss it as a pulled muscle. The lingering ache will make sitting a chore for the rest of the week, and she’ll chide him for not being more careful as he grimaces when going down the stairs. 

But now, the two stay on the floor of the tent, chests rising and falling in unison. Inside the tent, the air is warm, laden, and muscle-thick. The Hunter rolls over onto his side, content to let the Admiral trace small circles into his back. Nuzzle into the back of his neck with unshaven cheeks. For the time being, they are just two men catching their breath, sweating and pressed together.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rrrhakshasa) :D


End file.
